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She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. There are certain smells, certain tinges to the air. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. ’ ‘A mistake, I agree. “One can talk without undertones, so to speak,” said Ramage. “Come,” he continued, “the world after all is a very small place. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot.
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